


Morning After

by Mercury Starlight (WoolandWater)



Category: Askewniverse
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, M/M, semi-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoolandWater/pseuds/Mercury%20Starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jay thinks about Bob. A 300 word drabble written for the 3 year anniversary of the Jay and Silent Bob yahoo!group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

He’s taking care of me again. I go into shock when he does shit like this. I don’t know why I’m always so surprised, it’s practically routine. He is my muscle after all.  But it always surprises me that he’s so goddamn caring. He doesn’t have much reason to be. I’m really fuckin shitty to him sometimes. And I’m not talking about the occasional insult, which we both know is important to my image. But I’ve really been fucked up to him before.

Example: Last night we went out, of course. It’s a Saturday, we’ve got parties to canvas, not to mention four bars and a really shitty club. So we’re in said shitty club, and I’ve been sampling the merchandise, and shootin’ tequila since 8:00. I'm not feeling very altered, so I go for my stash. A couple a vicodin should do me fine. Tubby says (so to speak), “No, not with that much alcohol.” Now me, I don’t really like authority figures. I sure as hell don’t like my muscle acting like one. So, feeling like being an asshole, knowing full well that he only keeps me from doin’ shit when he’s worried about me, I take four and down ‘em with his beer.

“There,” I said, “Now if I die it’s partly your fault. Bitch.”

Now I’m lying in bed, feeling like absolute shit, barely able to move. Honestly, every time I move my head it feels like somebody’s shoving ice picks through my skull.  And, despite my being an asshole, he’s here. He’s here with a cold cloth and a secret family hangover recipe. And I’m surprised, because no one’s ever loved me like he does. And I know I’ll never be luckier if I live for a thousand fucking years.

Ain’t that some sappy shit?


End file.
